[…] the victims but would favour the one who calls the tune. So I am not surprised that once again the victim has been the subjected to blame by the powerful in the land. I think this was the reason of giving […]

[…] a rare opportunity and remains a legacy. Madiba and Oom Bey call upon us in the face of concerns, crises and current challenges some of which have been content of our discussions and debates today to move and meet halfway in […]

now
dancing under pale moonlight
pausing only for cauterisation
sterilisation
of too many wounds

the
dripetty-drip ceases
consciences lobotomised

and as it has been
and as it is now
and as it may be

the
numb faces
tango deeper
into the hollowness
the cacophonous void

now
signed and sealed
of deals done

and
souls sold on
profitable leases.
______________________
Who Killed the Marikana Miners?*
who killed the miners at Marikana?
definitely not the executive
nor the executives
far removed from the grime
and the slime
Who killed the miners at Marikana?
not the Prez
and not even the Press for a change
strange
so who killed the miners at Marikana?
the unions perhaps
or the errant miner
led astray
in that obscene demand for better pay
who killed the miners at Marikana?
not armed cops,
firing bullets of lead into the back of the head
execution-style it’s been said
who killed the miners at Marikana?
it seems no one can be found
as bodies decompose deep under gold dust ground
while families grieve
there
ain’t no one around to take the fall
so
who killed the Marikana Miners?
no one
no one at all
* inspired by the protest song “Who Killed Davey Moore”, a topical song written in 1963 by American folk singer/songwriter Bob Dylan.
_____________________
Slaughter at Marikana.
1.
Bullets tearing,
into muscled flesh,
as,
bodies slump,
dead as dust.
Sweaty and bruised,
slogging,
mining the land of the ancestors,
descending into hell,
day by wretched day,
for shiny metals,
like those shiny metal bullets,
that tore,
into muscled flesh,
as,
bodies slumped,
dead as dust.
2.
How can we mourn,
the slaughtered,
how do we cleanse,
our blood-soaked hands,
without,
betraying our complicity,
in the slaughter at Marikana,
as we lightly tread,
on the mine-fields,
of greed,
of profit,
on the backs,
of the slaughtered dead.
(dedicated to the human beings massacred at Marikana)